


One Night to Remember

by ShadowBiscuit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: An evil and perverted asshole, Bottom Sam, Dean is a total asshole, Demon Dean, Dirty Talk, Dubious consent at first, Fingering, Forbidden Love, Humiliation, Kinky Sam in denial, Light Bondage, M/M, Rough Sex, Stanford Sam, Time Travel, Top Dean, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9451697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowBiscuit/pseuds/ShadowBiscuit
Summary: We all know about the demon that killed Jess, and therefore forced Sam into the hunter life.But what if it was another demon, who painted the path for the young Winchester? One much more sinister...and alothandsomer.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scarlet_Ribbons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Ribbons/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to my one and only Scarlet_Ribbons! Maybe not my finest work, especially after one particular, and very sexy, dragon, but hey I had this written way before that one, so... <3 Hope you, along with everyone else, enjoy it :)

 

“And don’t forget to hand in your assignment papers about statutory rape in your chosen state by Friday evening,” professor LeBlanc said in his usual blaring voice, as if wanting to make sure that now they definitely wouldn’t forget about the homework, thanks to the ringing in their ears reminding them of it. “And yes, Thomas, that means the deadline is midnight. I don’t want to hear another excuse about how Friday is supposed to be ‘chill day’.” 

Sam smiled as the class laughed and began spilling out of the lecture hall. He glanced down at his bag, following the sea of people and lost in thought, so he didn’t notice the person coming up behind him, causing him to jump when he felt a set of fingers pressing into his ribs.

“Still stuck?” 

Stopping and glancing over his shoulder, Sam immediately relaxed and flashed a dimpled smile at the girl. 

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he admitted, chuckling when Jess raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t give me that look. I’m trying, okay? But…” 

“I never said you weren’t, sweetie.” Jessica wrapped an arm around Sam’s and continued walking out the building with him. “Maybe you should talk to Steve?” 

Sam snorted. “As if the great Steven LeBlanc would let me skip this assignment.” He shook his head and moved his arm around his girlfriend’s waist instead, pulling her close and enjoying the calming scent of her perfume. It reminded him of a flower field he visited some years ago. “Besides, I want to do it. I’m just having a hard time finding a case in Texas, is all.” 

“There are plenty of cases. You just don’t want to look at them,” Jess pointed out. She always knew what was wrong, and Sam loved her for it. 

He sighed, smiling weakly at her. “No… I don’t. I suppose I should choose another state, but right now this whole thing is making it a bit difficult to look at any case. I mean past ones are fine, nothing could have happened then, but what if I accidentally find something recent and…” He trailed off, averting his eyes as he remembered the letter. 

Sam Winchester had left his deficient family a few years ago to study here, at Stanford University. He has never regretted this choice, even when he began missing his brother, Dean, and even his absent, stubborn, and inadequate father, John. But now he had a new family of friends and a girlfriend. He was happy. He had a future before him, a life he was looking forward to. No more hunting monsters in the dark, no more being the freak of the school, no more feeling out of place and like he’s being dragged along in a life he’s never wanted in the first place. Here, he could be normal. Here, he could be who he has always wanted to be, just an ordinary 18 year old kid with big hopes and dreams.

Everything’s been going great…until a week ago. He was living with Jess now, but on that day she was still out when he got home and found the letter on their dinner table. And while he has left the hunting life behind, Sam’s alarm bells immediately went off as soon as he saw the crisp white paper. It being on the table meant someone has put it there, and it couldn’t have been Jess, or him. That was the first warning sign. Next was the condition the letter was in. It was just one sheet of paper, at first glance clean and white, but once unfolded, Sam noticed several disturbing things, for example the smiling face drawn at the bottom with something dark that was most definitely blood. The handwriting was also too perfect, and eerie. But maybe the most upsetting thing was the content of the letter…

It described a scene. A hypothetical scene. At first, Sam thought it was a simple story, but the more he read the more convinced he was that he knew the characters. The settings, the places the characters were visiting… Father and son going from motel to motel, stopping at diners and going hunting. It was definitely describing his father and brother, in details that were alarmingly precise. As if someone was watching them, their every move, knew when they woke and slept, what they ate and what they were talking about. That already had Sam sitting down, panic rising in his chest—but it was nothing compared to what the letter described towards the end. 

It wrote about pain and screams, about the fall of a great hero. It never mentioned anything specific, which is why Sam didn’t grab his keys and drive right back to his family. He couldn’t have been sure this was a real thing. But it was worrying enough that that night he had a nightmare, morbid images of his brother getting assaulted flashing in his mind and prompting Jess to wake him up to stop his suffering. He hated it. He hated how the letter was getting to him, how ambiguous it was in the last part.

**_And he will come home to the only loved one he has, but find them missing. Oh, will he panic. Where could they have gone? Who will save him now? Who will listen to his screams of pain and misery as he gets enveloped by the darkness, as the figure in the shadows takes everything from him? No one. No one will know about the boy’s demise, his despair, his defilement, his defeat. Great hero he was destined to become, now all that’ll be left of him are ashes. A violated little soldier, empty on the inside. But not all holes will be left empty for long. Not with the monster there, to change the boy’s life and drag him down to Hell, where he belongs._ **

Just thinking of those lines made Sam shiver, his heart skipping a beat in concern. 

“Why don’t you just call them?” Jess asked after a long silence, looking up at Sam with her doe eyes, but he couldn’t meet her gaze. 

“It might just be a prank. I can’t be sure, I mean it didn’t specifically say that Dean was going to get…” 

“Maybe.” She stood in front of Sam, her hands on her hips. “Look, I understand. You are scared—” 

Sam frowned, suddenly feeling defensive. “I am not scared.” 

“—but that doesn’t mean you should ignore your family,” Jess stated firmly, her blue eyes intense, and Sam knew he couldn’t really argue when she got like that. Especially since she was right. 

He ran a hand through his shaggy chestnut hair and looked away. “I know. I just, I haven’t talked to them in years, and what am I supposed to say now? Call my dad and ask him if Dean’s been raped recently?” He shook his head, snorting incredulously. “There is a ninety-nine percent chance he’ll say no, but then he will want to talk to me, and each time we do talk it ends with arguments. And I don’t want that, I… I’m tired of arguing with him.” 

“Sam Winchester, you’re whining,” Jess pointed out, to what he looked down at his shoes, feeling ashamed. “But I understand. Alright? You’ve told me enough of your family to know why you wouldn’t want to talk to them. But…” She stepped closer and took Sam’s hands in hers. “They _are_ your family. And I know you love them.” 

Sam said nothing for the longest time, before letting out a long sigh and smiling at his girlfriend. He really didn’t know what he’d do without her. “You’re right. I’ll call them today,” he said, deciding on the spot that he was going to do this. “I’ve been putting this off for far too long.” And the letter did mention a monster… So if anything, Sam should at least warn his family of a possible monster attack on them. 

“Good!” Jess flashed her own pearly white smile at him before wrapping her arms around his waist, hugging him. “You’re doing the right thing, Sam,” she mumbled into his chest. “I’m sure you will feel better after talking to them.” 

“I hope so,” he said, honestly hoping for things to clear up. 

“Alright, well, I’ll go ahead.” She patted Sam’s arm, smiling once more at him. “Take your time, okay, Sam? If anything happens… Just come home. I’ll be there,” she said reassuringly, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and walking away. 

-

 

He searched for around fifteen minutes for the perfect place to make the phone call, as he needed a place with as few people as possible. If he was going to talk about mysterious letters and monsters that creep in the night, if he was going to speak to his family after years of no contact, if he was going to dig up long buried memories, possibly argue with either his father, Dean, or both, if he was going to listen to his brother’s voice… Then Sam needed a place where he could be alone, or at least somewhere not many people could hear or see him. 

In the end, he opted for a quiet little corner in the Starbucks closest to his faculty. After ordering a sweet tea, he slipped behind the table, put his bag on top of it as a means of hiding, then pulled out his phone. And proceeded to stare at it for a full five minutes. 

“Damn it,” Sam muttered, rubbing his temples and frowning at the phone. He promised both himself and Jess he would go through with it. If not for him, he had to at least do it for her. Plus that letter… It really was worrying him. The more days passed, the more his concern has grown, and while his rational side was telling him that this was most probably a trap—who would threaten, from all the things they could do like kidnap or beat up, to rape Dean?—he still couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t. That something big was coming. 

And yet, at the same time, he wanted nothing to do with it. This is exactly why he left that life behind. All the uncertainty, the constant paranoia, never being able to feel safe because you never know what will happen. You never know what’s in the dark. What might be watching you even at this very moment, without your knowledge… 

Sam shuddered, gulping and looking around. He needed to calm down. Nothing was watching him. God, he certainly didn’t miss this feeling. 

But this wasn’t why he was here. He didn’t come here to contemplate his options, but to _do_ something. So after a few more moments of hesitating, he found his brother’s number in the contact list, along with many of his father’s. They had many phones for the family business, but only a few numbers when it came to the actual family. Still, Sam scrolled through those and, in the end, chose to dial the number belonging to Dean, hoping his big brother still had that number. 

And that he wouldn’t disconnect the line the second he heard Sam’s voice. 

Pressing the phone to his ear and waiting as it rang, he suddenly felt nauseous with nervousness, having second thoughts about this whole thing, and would have almost backed out if not for the voice on the other end of the line. 

“…Sammy?” 

He stopped breathing as soon as he heard it. Dean’s voice hadn’t changed much over the years, but he did sound somewhat manlier. And tired. But through the phone, Sam could also hear hope in his tone, along with disbelief, and he would have lied if he said it didn’t almost have him tear up, the ache in his chest like hands clutching at his heart. 

He couldn’t possibly stay silent, letting the memories and past feelings flood him, so when it felt like too much awkward silence has passed, Sam quickly cleared his throat and willed his voice to work. “Y-Yeah, hey Dean.” 

He barely got the words out, before he heard his brother saying, “Sam? Sam, you… You actually called.” Then after a moment, with a more composed voice, “What’s up? Why are you calling out of the blue?” 

“Oh yeah, uh.” He completely forgot the purpose of the call the moment he heard his brother’s voice, but now it felt like a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulder as he remembered and realized Dean was fine. He was fine. The letter was a lie. “It’s not important.” 

“If it made you call me, then it’s gotta be some end-of-the-world serious stuff,” Dean joked, but there was also something wistful in his voice. “So, what is it? Spill it.” 

Sam sank back in his seat, chewing on his bottom lip and gazing at his bag, where he kept the letter which he lied to Jess about throwing out. “It’s… Okay, so a week ago I got this strange letter. It described some things that sounded pretty similar to how you and dad live your lives. You know…” He lowered his voice. “Hunting, motels, diners.” In other words, the life he left behind, ran away from. 

“And why is that such a big deal? If you think I sent it to you or something—” 

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing like that. Look, the letter, it… It described some really messed up stuff, Dean. I think it was some kind of threat, and it pretty much said that you.” He swallowed, taking a deep breath. “It said you were going to get raped by some monster.” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, before Dean started speaking again. “A rape threat? Seriously?” He didn’t wait for Sam’s answer. “It’s gotta be some kind of prank, Sam. I mean…no one threatens with that kind of stuff. Not in our business.” 

“But it wasn’t a hunter, Dean. It was a monster.” 

“And how do you know that? Or that it was talking about me?” 

“Well,” Sam muttered, his conviction that this was a serious issue slowly dissipating, “it mentioned a monster. And a boy.” 

“No specific type? No vampires or ghouls, wendigos or ghosts?” Dean asked, now sounding almost like the big brother chiding his little bro, a situation Sam’s been through enough times already. “And just some boy?” 

“Yeah, no. Okay, I get it, it’s a really vague threat,” he said, and before Dean could’ve commented, Sam quickly added, “but you didn’t see it, Dean. The letter had some things in it that are private. I mean what prankster would know what you and dad talk about at night, behind closed doors? Or in the car? It’s like…like that person’s _there_ with you guys.” He lowered his gaze. “And I don’t like it one bit.” 

What Dean said next, no matter how quietly, clawed a hole in his heart. 

“Then why don’t you come home…?” 

Sam’s face dropped, his expression turning into something melancholic and longing. He didn’t want to go back. He really didn’t. When he thought about how much happier he was here, it made imagining going back to his family a nightmare. But like this, with hearing the words from Dean’s mouth, the sorrow in his voice, it was so much harder to convince himself this was better. That he honestly had no intentions of ever going back there. 

“Dean,” he sighed, leaning back and resting his head against the seat, blinking up at the ceiling. “You know why.” 

“I do,” came the answer, followed by a sigh from Dean as well. “I know. And I’m happy you’re out. But… I miss you.” 

Sam bit his bottom lip, blinking faster to try and get rid of the tears. “I’m—” He swallowed the lump in his throat and took one deep breath, trying to get his emotions under control again. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m not going back. I…miss you too, but I’m just not,” he said, and it was the truth. He did miss Dean, from time to time. Jess helped, along with all the studying and hanging out with friends. He could forget, thanks to them. But at times like these, it was close to impossible to ignore his feelings. 

Mainly his forbidden, corrupt, plain wrong ones. 

“How’s um, how’s dad, anyway?” he asked, desperate to change the topic before it was too late. He didn’t want his brother picking up the pieces and fitting them together. It was bad enough that he gave in to his urges and kissed Dean on the day he left—if the other were to realize Sam still had feelings for him, he definitely wouldn’t leave him alone. 

But fortunately, Dean didn’t seem to notice. Either that, or he was ignoring it for Sam’s sake. “You wanna know about dad?” He chuckled, and Sam could just imagine his brother’s bitter smile on the other side. “He’s fine. Tough as a rock, for an old man.” 

“Still looking for the thing that killed mom?” 

There was a pause. “You know he is. We won’t stop until that thing is properly dead.” 

“We?” Sam was worried this was going to happen. “So you’re not planning on doing anything else? No life of your own? Only hunting” 

“Yes, Sam,” his brother stated, suddenly sounding gruff and a lot more like their dad. “And I’m not going to have this conversation again.” 

There it was. Well, Sam should have seen it coming. Whenever they were talking, this issue always came up. This is why he didn’t want to call in the first place. But it was just as much his fault as Dean’s, so he couldn’t blame him. Instead, he sighed and straightened in his seat, ready to leave. He already knew what he wanted, there was no need to drag this out. 

“Alright, well… Anyway, that letter is still shady, so I think you and dad should be on your guard for a while,” Sam suggested, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of Dean’s laugh. 

“When are we ever **_not_** on our guard?” he said with a smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, Sammy; we’ll be fine.” 

“I know you will,” he lied, tightening his grip on the phone. “Just…still. Be careful. Okay?” 

He could hear his brother sigh, but Dean sounded much less annoyed than expected when he responded. Sounded more fond than anything. “Yeah, we’ll be careful. Promise.”

It was painful. He has always hated goodbyes, but this time it was even worse. Still not as bad as the day he left, but sitting here while Dean was who knows where in the country, so far away, it felt like he’s lost a piece of himself. A piece he’s always wanted, in ways that were beyond morally acceptable, and yet that piece never judged him for it. Quite the opposite—that piece wanted him just as bad, but by the time they realized their shared feelings, it was already too late. And the next thing Sam knew, that piece he has always cherished, which has always been a part of him… Suddenly, it was gone, leaving a hole in Sam that he’s been desperately trying to fill since then, with friends, a girlfriend, anything that could fill that gaping emptiness in his heart. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, leaning forward and toying with the straw sticking out of the tea he hadn’t even touched yet. “I…have to go now. You tell dad I said hi, okay?” 

“Sure thing, Sam,” Dean said, followed by a drawn-out silence during which none of them said anything. Sam tried, but he couldn’t force the words out of his mouth. He just physically couldn’t. But one of them had to say something at some point, and after what seemed like an eternity of stalling, Dean cleared his throat on the other side of the line. “Alright, well. Take care, kiddo. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Yeah, later. Stay safe.” He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to say goodbye again, damn it. “Bye, Dean…” But he had no choice. Sam has already made a decision on how to live his life, and if that meant having to go through some pain, if it meant making sacrifices and giving up desires, then so be it. 

For a few minutes after he put the phone on the table, Sam felt strangely empty. His limbs felt heavy, his mind blank and his chest tight. It’s been years since he has heard Dean’s voice, and now there was a high chance that he wouldn’t hear his brother for many more years again. Or ever, because hunting was a damn dangerous way of life, and there was no guarantee that you would wake up the next morning. So for all he knew, the next time he worked up the courage to call, it might be too late… 

But he didn’t want to think of that. He did what he came here to do. He called Dean, found that the letter was most probably just some kind of prank or a trap. Warned his brother about it and made sure that he’s safe, for now. And yet, Sam felt worse than before. 

He needed Jess. Talking to Dean made him homesick, a feeling he didn’t miss at all, and he knew that using Jess to forget about his brother was a dick move, he did. He’s been hating himself every day for it, because he genuinely loved Jessica, and so did she him, but deep down, he knew he could never truly get rid of his unclean feelings for Dean. They would haunt him forever, would resurface every time he spoke to or got reminded of the other, so really, all he could do was lock them in a chest and hide them in the very back of his mind while trying to build a normal, healthy life for himself. 

A life with Jessica as his partner, not his own big brother. 

Not feeling like drinking his tea, Sam picked up his bag, slung in over his shoulder, and then gave the tea to the person sitting at the other table before leaving the Starbucks. It was already getting late, the clouds above him forming a dark veil over the sky, shielding him from the lowering sun. He still had time to swing by the library and start working on the assignment, now that he’s been assured he wouldn’t see anything disturbing; but Sam felt inexplicably drained, much rather curling up on the couch with Jess to watch a sappy movie instead of working. There was always tomorrow for responsibilities. 

For now…he just wanted to forget. 

The walk home was rather gloomy but quick, Sam barely making it inside before the first few drops of rain began wetting the ground in a matter of seconds. Oh well, Sam always liked cozying up inside with a downpour on the other side of the window.

“Jess?” he called absently as he opened the door, but once he stepped inside the dark room, he stopped with a frown. None of the lights were on, which wouldn’t have been strange except for the fact that Jessica told him she’d be here, waiting for him. And if she left, she definitely wouldn’t have left the door unlocked. 

“Jessica?” He tried again, closing the door behind him and kicking off his shoes as he walked further inside, straining his eyes to see in the dark. When it became clear that he possessed no cat-like night vision, Sam reached out to switch the lights on, but to his surprise the room stayed the same eerie dark as before. He tried the other lights and lamps, maneuvering through the room and knocking into things here and there. 

A power outage? No, not with Jess missing. _Missing_. Sam clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath to calm himself. This was no time to get worried. There could have been a number of reasons for her to not be home, so he needed to get it together. Listening intently, all Sam could hear was the rain hitting the window, the sound becoming more and more aggressive the longer he listened, imposing, loud, frightening… 

“Dammit,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his face. This was no time to lose it, because Jess might have been needing him. “Jessica? Jess, baby, are you here?” he called out again, just in case, as he slid a hand along the wall and felt his way through the flat, checking each and every room; but just as he feared, his girlfriend was nowhere to be found. 

_Now_ it was time to panic. 

Could someone have taken her? But who? What if she never made it home? Sam furrowed his brow, glaring into the darkness of their shared flat as he headed back to the living room. No, she had to come home, or else the door would have been locked, which it wasn’t. So she came home and then… And then what? Someone broke in and took her? Looking around, even in the barely lit room, he couldn’t find any evidence of a struggle. Everything was neat and in their proper place, nothing was moved or knocked over, broken. So no fighting… Maybe she left by herself? No, she would have left a note, then. Or called him. 

“Phone!” Sam exclaimed as a sudden realization hit him, the boy quickly pulling his cellphone out of the bag he left by the door; but as soon as the screen lit up with a blue glow, his heart sank, the white letters reading **No Signal** as if laughing in his face. 

This made no sense. No, actually, it was beginning to make sense. And also filling Sam with a long forgotten dread as he slid the phone into his jeans pocket and glanced at the kitchen cabinet. Power outage? No signal? Eerie silence? Sounded like a perfect fit for a horror movie, except Sam Winchester has lived horror movies. 

He knew what was out there in the night, and so couldn’t chalk this off as some kind of coincidence. Not when his hunter instincts were screaming at him to _fight_. 

The gun was in the bottom drawer of the nightstand, in the bedroom at the end of the hallway. Sam’s already searched the house once, and nothing attacked him then, so he was fairly confident he’d be able to make it again, without having to worry about getting jumped. Which made him wonder, as he began slowly and carefully making his way to the bedroom, where the creature was. If it had already left with Jess, how was Sam supposed to track them down? The house was pristine clean, there were no clues anywhere, nothing Sam could use as a starting point. He couldn’t call Jess. But maybe if he grabbed the flashlight and searched the streets, he might… 

“You know, you don’t seem too worried for someone whose girlfriend just got murdered.” 

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin at the deep voice filled with something frighteningly sinister coming from behind him just as he opened the drawer. Instinctively grabbing the gun and whipping around to face whoever the mysterious voice belonged to, he pointed his pistol at the shadowy figure standing in the doorway, heart hammering in his chest. It was way too dark, Sam unable to make out the person’s face, only certain that he was an older male judging from the slightly raspy voice. 

“Who are you?” he demanded, remembering all the training from years ago and tightening his hold on the gun. Keeping calm in situations such as this was crucial; however something the man said suddenly pierced his heart, setting off a number of alarm bells in his head, Sam feeling a sudden dizziness overcome him as his stomach dropped. “Wait… What did you say? About my girlfriend, you—” 

The man chuckled, the dark sound sending a bloodcurdling chill down Sam’s spine. “Ah yes. Pretty blonde little thing, wasn’t she? Feisty, too.” He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, and in the darkness, Sam could almost make out a hint of a lopsided smile. “Too bad she was in the way.” 

“What did you do to her, you bastard?!” Sam demanded, taking an unconscious step forward and straining his eyes as he glared into the darkness, an even darker mix of wrath and terror pulling at something inside him; and that apprehensive feeling only expanded, threatening to drown him, as the man flashed a perfectly white-teethed, sinister grin at him. 

“Let’s just say that, soon, a lot of people will see just how good red looks on her.” The dark figure cocked his head. “Or more like all around her. What remained of her.” 

For a long moment, Sam felt nothing. A cold denial spread through him, squeezing the air out of his lungs. And then, abruptly, nausea and rage took over, and before he knew what he was doing, Sam was screaming something at the man while pulling the trigger several times, each shot lighting the room for a split second and giving him a brief glimpse of the man’s piercing eyes. 

Eyes black as the night sky. 

Dead silence followed the hollow clicks as Sam emptied the cartage, the smell of gunpowder strong in the room. He was sweating, hands trembling, and since he had no more ammunition—damn, he really should have thought about investing in some extra bullets—Sam let the gun fall from his grip and hit the carpeted floor with a dull thud, loud in the deadly quiet bedroom. Slowly, carefully, with his heart beating out of his chest, he made his way over to the door, only to find it empty. How…could that be? Even in the barely lit room, Sam was confident in his aim. He _knew_ he hit the guy. He had to. And tracing his fingers along the wall and the door frame, he only found five holes, while he was certain his gun held twelve bullets, which meant that the remaining seven had to enter the man. 

But then where was he? 

“Not bad,” came a deep whisper from right behind him, before inhumanely strong hands grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back and drawing a pained cry from Sam. “But you missed quite a few times. And should have aimed for the head, instead of the chest. Harder to recover from a headshot, you see.” The man slammed him against the wall, keeping his wrists in an iron grip behind his back and pressing close—so close Sam could feel the other’s warm breath on his skin, his body pressing against his back, the smell of beer, gasoline, and… 

“Demon,” Sam hissed, wrinkling his nose at the intense smell of sulfur and struggling in the other’s hold, in vain. What was a demon doing here? And what the hell did it want from him? “You son of a bitch. You killed…” 

“Jess?” The demon snorted, giving Sam’s hands a painful twist. “Spoiler alert—she would have died anyway, so don’t worry about it. In fact, I showed her mercy. Gave her a better death than she would have suffered at the hands of Yellow Eyes.” 

“Yellow—” Sam tried to look back over his shoulder at the other, his own eyes wide with confusion. “How do you know him? Is he here?” He needed to call Dean. Or John. Damn it, if only this asshole would let go of his wrists, he could grab his phone… No, first he had to trap the demon. But he killed Jess, and Sam didn’t think he could control himself, could keep this piece of crap alive until his family got here. 

“Stop it,” the demon growled, pulling back and then slamming him into the wall again. “I can hear the cogs turning in your head.” He chuckled lowly and leaned closer, lips brushing against Sam’s ear and making him cringe. “Though you always were the smart one in the team, weren’t you, Sammy?” 

Sam tensed. The air got stuck in his throat as he gaped, unseeing, into the darkness of the room, a sudden and dreadful, no, _impossible_ realization dawning on him. He’s been called that nickname before, many times. By bad guys, friends, family… But there was a way a certain someone always said his name, with a playful drawl, with a tone of voice that always suggested a kind of fond mischief. And this voice… It couldn’t be. It was similar, eerily so, but also wrong, filled with something…sadistic. 

“D-Dean?” he whispered, unable to help himself, and when the demon huffed out a small laugh and let go of him, let him turn around to get a better, up close look at him, Sam’s heart sank. 

“Nice of you to finally recognize your big brother,” Dean said with a crooked smile, the lights suddenly blinking awake and illuminating the entire apartment, along with the _thing_ that looked like his brother standing inches away from him. “Although, I guess, I must look way different from the last time you saw me.” He winked. “Could even be your daddy, hmm Sammy?” 

He didn’t know if he should punch the man standing in front of him, start an exorcism, or… Well, no, there was no or. “Who are you?!” he exclaimed, shoving at the person that could not be his brother. No way. “Liar! You’re like- You look over thirty! I just got off the phone with you and you didn’t even sound like this, your voice was much younger! And you killed Jess!” Sam swallowed back tears and rage, then decided to let the latter out anyway, stepping forward and punching the demon in the face. “ _You’re a demon, not my brother!_ ** _”_**  

Staggering back, the demon lifted a hand to his bleeding nose. And then started laughing. “Oh, Sammy, playing the denial game as usual,” he scoffed, wiping at the blood under his nose and flashing the boy an alarming smile that made Sam’s heart skip a beat in fear. “Look at me. Really, do. Take all the time you need…and then tell me whether I’m your favorite big brother, or not.” 

Sam thought about ignoring him and just finding a sharp knife to use on this piece of shit, but something in him told him to listen. To look. So, reluctantly, he did. 

The demon was much older. He looked nothing like the Dean he knew—and yet, the more he stared, the more similarities he found, along with a number of strains that came with age. The now emerald eyes that were just as green and beautiful, but also dark, tired, and like they’ve seen much more than any normal person should in several lifetimes. The pink, plush lips that was split in the corner, probably from the punch. The wrinkles and crow’s feet telling a story of a life lived with laughter but also worry, of years spent frowning and handling large amounts of stress in the worst possible ways. The rough stubble suggesting those years to be more than just a few. More defined muscles, longer hair, the posture of a trained fighter and hunter; the man standing before Sam was just that. A _man_ , and not the boy he talked to just about an hour ago. He had lived and loved and cried, had years of experience behind him, and judging by those black eyes he caught a glimpse of before, that life chewed him up real good and spit him out on the ground, before stomping on him hard. 

He hated to reach this conclusion, but there was no mistaking it. This was Dean. A much older and different version of his big brother, scarred and beaten by life, roughed up and corrupted, but still… Dean. 

“How is this possible?” he said eventually, his eyes flicking up and down the other’s body in bewilderment. “I don’t understand. And you’re a demon! What happened?” he asked, almost sounding desperate for answers, which he kind of was. 

Dean just shrugged, running a hand through his longer, fluffy hair. “Long story short, I’m from the future. Yeah, there’s time travel,” he said, smirking at the face Sam gave him. “Not with a machine, dummy. Angel travel. And no, don’t get me started on angels, because they suck harder than a space vacuum.” He crossed his arms behind his head. “So yeah, I just used one to jump back in time and visit a younger version of you, ‘cause you see we’re not exactly on the best terms right now.” 

“Does that have to do with the fact that you’re a freaking demon?” Sam growled, to what the other rolled his eyes. 

“Ten points to Gryffindor. Yes, Sam. But I’m not gonna go into details. All you have to know is that I died—don’t worry, we’ll both do that a couple of times and come back later anyway—and this time, I came back sporting a pair of black eyes. Lots happened between now and the time I come from, Sammy. A _lot_ of shit went down. But we’re both alive and kicking, so don’t worry, I didn’t visit you for nostalgia or any emotional crap,” Dean explained, a slow, ominous smile stretching across his face as he lowered his hands and prowled over to Sam, making him press his back against the wall again. “My reasons are much more…impure.” 

Sam gulped, not liking this one bit. “I don’t care,” he spat, hands clenching into fists at his sides. “I don’t care why you’re here. You killed my girlfriend!” 

“Oh come on, stop yapping about that already,” Dean groaned and leaned closer, pressing his palms on either side of Sam’s head, really getting up in the other’s personal space. The closeness sent an anxious, uneasy shiver down his spine. “I already told you. She would have died anyway,” Dean whispered, the look in his eyes telling Sam just how much his brother cared… And the sheer lack of humanity in them was starting to truly frighten him. 

“That’s no goddamn excuse,” he hissed, unable to raise his voice with the demon’s face suddenly so close to his, the growing discomfort in him now morphing into something more distressing. Sam has never been afraid of his brother before, not really, but finding himself trapped between the wall and Dean, he actually felt his pulse and breathing quicken, his fight or flight instincts telling him it was time to choose one fast. 

Before it was too late. 

“It’s all the excuse I need,” Dean whispered, now leaning dangerously close and sliding a hand to Sam’s neck, which was the last drop. 

A violent chill shot across his body at the touch, Sam feeling like a damn cornered animal as he pushed the other away. “What do you _want_?” he shouted, feeling like he was going crazy, this situation was so absurd, so wrong. “Just what the hell do you want, Dean? If you’re even him,” he scoffed. “How do I know you’re not just some asshole demon possessing my brother?” 

“Don’t you think that if I were possessed, the demon in me would have gone to pester your older version, instead of going through all the trouble—because believe me, hopping back in time ain’t a simple joy ride—of finding your young ass?” Dean raised his eyebrows at him, crossing his arms almost challengingly. “Please, Sam. Let’s not have to go through all the stages of denial. I don’t have time to listen to your whining.” 

“Then tell me what you want already!” Sam snapped, stepping forward, and being _this_ close to lunging at the other and beating the answers out of him if necessary. “Tell me why my demon brother traveled back in time to kill my girlfriend and show up in my life! Was it to ruin it? Was messing with my- my old self not enough, you had to come back here and mess me up as well? Or why? Why? What do you want?!” 

It happened in a split second, leaving Sam no time to react. Dean moved fast, superhuman fast, as he backed him into the wall again, this time wasting no time to grab his throat with a hand, the other moving up to block Sam’s fist trying to connect with his face. “You, Sammy,” he purred, his voice deep and husky. “I want you, of course.” 

And before Sam could have asked what on earth he meant by that, Dean stunned him by smashing their lips together in a biting, rough kiss that left him questioning his sanity all over again. Because there was no way this just happened, right? There was no way his brother just kissed him. Right? 

It was when he felt Dean’s tongue slip into his mouth, that Sam managed to snap out of his shock induced daze and knee the other in the crotch, before forcefully shoving him away. “Jesus,” he gasped, wiping at his mouth; and while Sam thought of himself as a brave person, all it took him was one look at the black-eyed, growling demon in the middle of the bedroom, before he was turning around and bolting for the front door. 

“ _Sammy!_ ** _”_** He heard the chilling voice from behind him filled with barely-contained rage and something more evil as he ran, not looking back, but just as he reached the door and yanked it open, the handle slipped out of his grasp as if it’s been wrenched out of his hand, the door slamming shut before him. Panic growing in his stomach, Sam scrambled to grab the handle again and open the door, but this time it wouldn’t even budge. “Did you _really_ think it would be this easy?” Dean hissed, suddenly appearing behind him, and drew a startled gasp from the boy as he smashed his palm against the door, using his other hand to grab Sam’s shoulder and flip him around. “What the hell do you take me for, huh? Some crossroad demon? Some little nobody?” 

“I take you for a demon,” Sam snarled, pushing at Dean’s chest, but the other was like a stone statue, firm and completely unmovable. “A sick, twisted joke of my brother. No…” He frowned, shaking his head. “You’re not my brother.” 

Dean scoffed. “Well then I guess you’ll feel less ashamed and emotionally perturbed or whatever when I fuck you until you fuckin’ bleed, like that surely tight ass of yours deserves it.” 

“What?!” Sam all but squeaked, unable to believe his ears and eyes as the other flashed him a dirty smirk, enchanting green eyes glimmering with what was unmistakable, predatory, and an almost scary, intimidating amount of lust. “N-No, you.” Sam snorted, the small laugh sounding more frightened than anything. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Do I look like I’m joking to you?” the demon wearing his big brother’s older face whispered, leaning uncomfortably close, and no, he most definitely didn’t look like he was joking. Which was what terrified Sam the most. That this thing, this demon, this possibly future version of his brother wasn’t just playing a sick prank on him—that he truly wanted to rape Sam… 

“You…” He gulped. “Get- Get away from me!” Sam snapped, finally, shoving as hard as he could at the other’s chest and, screw it, running for the windows. It wasn’t such a long drop, he had around seventy percent chance of making it, which was still better than what would probably happen to him if he stayed with this sicko. But of course, he barely managed to take four steps before Dean’s hands were on him, grabbing and pulling, and even as he screamed and kicked, punched the demon, it was only a matter of time before he ended up on the floor, face pressed into the soft rug. 

“Now now,” Dean purred, straddling the small of his back. The sound of clothes tearing followed by something wrapping around his wrists had Sam emitting a grunt of protest as his hands got tied behind his back. Fuck. _Fuck._ “You’re a smart boy, Sammy. You should have known that running, or fighting, wouldn’t get you anywhere. Especially when you’re up against a Knight of Hell.” 

“A what of Hell?!” Sam asked incredulously, trying to lift his head to glare back at his brother, and growling when his face got shoved back into the dirty rug once again. 

“Knight of Hell, baby.” Dean pat his bound wrists and crawled off him, before grabbing him by his hair and dragging him to his feet, then towards the bedroom. “The highest rank, the monster at the very top of the demon food chain.” He scoffed. “Well, almost the very top. Guess that seat’s reserved for the ‘Prince of Darkness’,” he said, laughing at the baffled expression on Sam’s face. “Just kidding. No one calls that demonic brat that. He usually just goes by Lucifer.” 

Speechless, Sam just gaped at the other as they headed back to the bedroom. Knight of Hell? Lucifer… Satan? What was Dean babbling about? There was no way these things existed… Sure, ghosts and demons were a thing, werewolves and monsters. But the Devil with a capital D? It was like stating that God existed as well, and while he hoped the man or woman in the sky was a real thing, this was just too much. Everything, really, was too much for him right now, Sam’s brain trying to process all this new information as things kept changing around him, as people appeared and disappeared, as truths and lies switched places, as his reality got bent out of shape. A part of him was still in denial, as if refusing to cross a line that would discard all of this being just some dream or fantasy and turn it into reality, one he was not yet ready to face. 

Not that it seemed to matter to his brother, who tossed him on the bed ungracefully, Sam needing to wiggle in order to avoid suffocating on a pillow. He thought of jumping off the bed and kicking Dean in the nuts again, as it definitely worked before, and then running for the door or window again, but the demon wasn’t that stupid either. 

“Hey!” Sam kicked the other’s face as his ankles got grasped by rough hands, which promptly got even rougher, fingers digging so deep into his flesh he was sure Dean was going to end up freaking breaking his bones. “Ow fuck, Dean, stop!” 

“That’s right,” the other drawled, pushing Sam’s ankles up until his feet were touching his fingers, “scream my name.” 

Rolling his eyes with an irritated groan, Sam struggled still, but soon had to realize with a dreadful feeling in his stomach that resisting wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Especially not when, suddenly, he found his ankles tied to his wrists, putting him in a rather awkward and vulnerable position. Literally. “Dean,” he hissed, apprehension flowing through his veins and pumping his heart out of his chest and up his throat. “Dean, let me go. You do- You do realize that if you do something so drastic, you’re gonna end up changing the future… And who knows what will happen to you then? Or me?” he reasoned, licking his dry lips and trying in vain to find a comfortable position—or at least one in which he could still, somehow, fight Dean. “Time travel sounds like a very risky business.” 

“Believe me, I know more than you do about time travel.” Dean’s disembodied voice came from further away, fading from the room as he left—judging by the sound of drawers opening and closing—to the kitchen. Sam tugged on the fabric binding his wrists and ankles together, the hogtied position already making his shoulders ache. This…really didn’t look good for him. And if he really accepted the possibility of this demon being his brother as truth, then that meant Dean honestly was considering hurting him, touching him; doing indescribable things to him. Things Sam may have imagined, but only with a normal Dean, his human, caring, playful, badass, and charming big brother. A _person_ _,_ and not some monster that relished in others’ pain and misery. This…this thing just couldn’t be Dean. 

It couldn’t be the person he looked up to for so many years, the boy he secretly fell for. 

A few more minutes trickled by as Sam continued his futile struggle to wriggle his hands out of the unfairly tight binds, somehow get off the bed, or in any way get the upper hand in this already rather hopeless, and apprehensive situation; which only became worse as the demon reentered the room and put a stop to his little brother’s struggling with a hand pressed to his back, and a knife against his throat. 

“Sammy, darling, what do you think you’re doing?” Dean demanded in a low rumble, his hand snaking up the back of the other’s neck and gripping a handful of his hair, before yanking his head back, exposing more throat to slash. “I hope you weren’t thinking of escaping.” 

“Of course I was thinking of escaping!” Sam spat, not in the mood for games, and turned his head in the demon’s grip to glare at him. “I’m not going to just _lie here_ while you, you…” He gulped, narrowing his eyes at Dean. “Untie me, Dean. Think this through, you delusional jerk, untie me, and go back to your own time. You don’t have to—” 

“Do this,” Dean finished his sentence for him, derision audible in his voice. “You don’t have to do this, you’re better than this, even as a demon, I know you, blabla… _bla_.” He scoffed, letting go of Sam’s hair roughly and pulling the alarmingly sharp knife away from his throat as he walked to the foot of the bed. Out of Sam’s field of vision. “Come on, Sam. The amount of blind, hopeless faith you’ve got in me is just pathetic. Though… I guess you’ve always been like this.” Dean chuckled, the sound almost sounding fond, but there was something disturbing in his tone that had little chills running down Sam’s spine all the way to his toes. “Really, sometimes I wonder if you’re not actually a girl. Hmm…” Sam tensed, and he could hear the nasty grin in the other’s voice as he purred, “How about we put an end to that mystery?” 

Dean abruptly grabbing his leg took him by surprise, but not as much as when he felt the blade cut into his skin as it slashed clean through his jeans. Sam couldn’t do much aside from squirming and yelling at Dean to stop, which was an obviously stupid and futile, but what else was he supposed to do? “Dean, _Dean_ for fuck’s sake, this isn’t funny! Stop it! Stop!” he protested, his voice rising in both volume and pitch as his pants were literally ripped off, the cold air against his naked skin eliciting a soft gasp and a shiver from him. 

“Such a pretty, tan skin for a law student.” The demon admired him with his penetrating gaze and light touches along his legs, caresses that soon turned rough and demanding, into intrusive gropes as Dean grasped at the flesh of his ass. “I almost forgot how much of a sexy twink you were… Time sure flies fast, doesn’t it?” 

“Dean, for the last time—Ah!” Sam began, but was cut off by his own cry as his brother bit his ass. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” 

“Foreplay?” Dean chuckled against his ass, lapping at the area where he surely left a bite mark. Deep teeth marks on his ass… Sam couldn’t believe this was happening. “What, Sammy, not into the kinky stuff?” 

He let out an incredulous huff. “If you’re asking if I’m not into my own demon brother from the future trying to screw me, then no, **_I_** _’m not_!” he exclaimed, trying to close his legs and squirm closer to the headboard, away from Dean, while wishing he could merge with the mattress below him. Instead of any of that working out in his favour, Sam found his thighs getting spread even wider as the other went back for round two, licking and biting along his thighs and ass, all that teeth close to his hole making him even more nervous and, honestly, freaking scared. He was scared of what this would lead to, even though he had a feeling he knew exactly what was going to happen. It was obvious, and there was no way for him to stop it. And Sam was frightened… And slightly aroused. A big fuck you from his crush on the present Dean, he supposed. 

“No need to be so whiny, baby,” the demon drawled, stroking circles in his ass and thumbing at his hole, Dean’s breath ghosting over it as he spoke. “We both know what you want, so pretending to be so freaked out by this is only making you look pathetic,” he said with a chuckle that definitely sounded egoistic to Sam’s ears. 

“I’m not _pretending_!” he insisted, thrashing once in frustration as heat rose in his cheeks. 

Dean patted his ass. “Sure, whatever you say, kiddo. See where taking me for a blind, dense idiot will take you,” he purred with veiled threat in his tone, Sam hearing a small click that reminded him of a bottle cap opening, and he almost jumped off the bed in surprise as he felt the cool liquid, the lube against his rim. 

“Dean!” 

“What?” 

“Stop!” 

“Nope,” he stated nonchalantly, before just pushing a finger in and, without even letting Sam wait or adjust, or even get mentally prepared, began thrusting the digit at a steady pace. “Mmm look at how easily my finger slides in and out of your ass… Must be ‘cause of how eager your ass is. Or the lube.” He snickered. “But my bet is on your ass.” 

“O-Oh shut up,” Sam groaned, forehead pressed into the pillow and entire body tense from the foreign body part inside him. Sure, he wasn’t proud of it, but he has experimented before. Teenage him was pretty curious and experimental sometimes, so he had times, alone times, when he fingered himself while thinking of…well, Dean. But not this Dean, and not like this; not with him tied down and forced to take it. This was different from his gentle and romantic fantasies filled with passion and angsty love. Admittedly, his dreams were always pretty girly when it came to sex, but that was because he loved his brother. He wanted their times in bed to be special, not…rough and intrusive. 

Barely a minute passed before Dean added another finger. He moved them slowly, at first, then faster and harder, pulling until only the tips of his fingers were squeezed by Sam’s tight ass, and then pushing all the way to his knuckles. Sam kept hissing and emitting small sounds of discomfort, as apparently that jerk didn’t even bother clipping his nails, which were now grazing against and cutting into his extremely tender, sensitive flesh with each thrust; however his demon brother didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact chuckling deeply and thrusting harder when he heard Sam’s grunts. 

By the time he had four fingers inside him, Sam has been reduced to a whining sack of hopeless potatoes, finally accepting that he couldn’t kick Dean, couldn’t fight back in the position he was in, and couldn’t say no. Or he could, but after yelling at his brother to stop, no, enough, at least a dozen times, while pleading and ordering him to listen, Sam learned that with this demon, nothing was going to work anyway… So why keep trying? His throat was already becoming scratchy from all the screaming. 

“Nice and easy,” Dean drawled as he scissored his ass, curling and pressing his fingers against the boy’s walls, and sending jolts of pleasure through him when the fingers found his prostate. Which, of course, the fucker tried to avoid as much as possible, definitely enjoying the way Sam couldn’t help but whine in disappointment and arch his back, hips trying to maneuver in a way Dean’s stupid fingers would be pressed against that soft, sweet spot again. “You’re doing real good, baby.” He kneaded Sam’s ass, slippery fingers stretching him for something much bigger, something the other dreaded to but couldn’t help imagine each time he closed his eyes and moaned. “Really, if I would have known that getting your tight ass to swallow my fingers so obediently would be so easy, I would have done this much, much sooner.” 

“No,” Sam groaned, “one’s ass i-is being obedient, you jackass.” He let out a shaky sigh, burying his face in the pillow with another, irritated groan. He hated it, having no choice but to lie here uselessly, taking Dean’s fingers. It felt like he didn’t even want to put up a fight, which he most definitely wanted; but after the first four times he got violently spanked for struggling too much, he’s learned that maybe he should waste his efforts on something that only got him punished. And even more humiliated. “Could you at least shut up while y-you violate me?” 

“Violate you? Look at your fancy words,” Dean sneered, pulling his fingers out and then, without warning and with incredible strength—seriously, it shouldn’t be so easy—he flipped Sam onto his back, immediately drawing a sound of pain from him. “Judging from how hard you are,” the demon said with a derisive, lecherous smirk, as he trailed his knuckles along Sam’s cock, “there is no violating of any kind going on here.” 

“Dean, I can’t feel my limbs,” he said, trying to ignore everything the other just said. “I still hate you, but c’mon, just roll me back on my stomach. Or just untie me, that’d be even better.” 

“You sayin’ that because the position is uncomfortable, or because it makes you even more vulnerable and open for my…sweet little torments?” Dean teased, kneeling between the other’s spread legs. He slid his hands along Sam’s thighs, moving them in long strokes up and down the honey tanned skin, before stopping at the top of his thighs and giving the soft flesh a firm, somewhat ominous, borderline painful squeeze. “Because it does, you know,” he purred, licking his lips that were as plush and pretty faint red as always. Lips that Sam had imagined kissing countless times before, and lips that he has kissed less than an hour ago. 

And oh dear were they just as soft and amazing as he imagined. 

“Please stop already…” Sam sighed, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore. He blinked at the demon, his toes and fingers curling as Dean’s hands began moving again, making their way up his groin and drawing an actual whimper out of him as the back of those callous fingers trailed along his hard cock, the feather-light, barely there, and obviously teasing touch making his cock twitch and his cheeks redden even more. His breath hitched, eyes closing because he couldn’t stand seeing that self-satisfied smirk along with the sly glint in Dean’s eyes. It wasn’t easy to admit, but the other was right… Sam really did feel much more vulnerable like this. His entire front was exposed, legs spread and limbs restrained, so if Dean decided to start using a knife on him now, there would be _nothing_ he could do to stop or fight him. And that terrified him. It terrified and thrilled him… 

Fingers wrapping around his cock and massaging it, kneading and pressing, there was no way Sam could have stayed silent, no matter how much he tried to bite down on the inside of his cheeks. “Feels good, hmm? Can’t act like you’re not fucking loving this, can you?” Dean taunted and leaned closer, a mischievous, shark-like grin spreading across his face at the little moans and gasps leaving Sam’s lips. “Tell me, how many times have you fantasized about this? You and your big brother, doing the naughty… Forbidden and wrong, but that’s what really made it hot, didn’t it?” He hovered over the boy, his presence so intense Sam couldn’t help but crack his eyes open, blinking up at an unfairly sexy demon. “Did you think about me…young me while screwing Jessica?” Dean leaned in, whispering in his ear and nibbling on the sensitive skin under it, drawing a soft gasp from Sam, who tipped his head back. “Did you let her play with your ass, just so you could imagine it was me?” the demon purred, sin pouring from his lips like sickly sweet syrup. It was maddening, how those dirty things could turn him on like a light switch, how the deep, low rumble of Dean’s voice sent ravishing chills through his entire being, one swipe of the other’s tongue along his neck enough to make him tremble with excitement. It was like his body was a bottle, filled to the brim with something buzzing and vibrating, as if his limbs were made of live wires, electricity shooting through his nerves and lighting them up like a Christmas tree the moment Dean touched him. He was…in a constant state of unbearable ecstasy, the endless little tremors spreading across his body reminding him of a machine someone turned on, and then forgot to turn off. A machine with liquid fire for blood, loud drums for a heart, and a stormy ocean as thoughts. 

“D-Dean…no,” Sam whined, but his persistent resistance was beginning to sound pitiful even to his own ears. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore, not with the embarrassingly wanton moans the demon was eliciting from him with each kiss and bite to his neck, and the little gasps and cries that he couldn’t keep in as Dean kept stroking him, the demon never stopping fondling his cock. “ _Dean_.” He sucked in a deep breath as his brother began kissing down his chest, grip tightening and hand giving his cock a squeeze with each plush, wet kiss. Sam arched his back, pushing his chest closer to the other’s impossibly soft lips, a hopeless and humiliatingly high-pitched, breathy whimper leaving him as Dean swiped his tongue under his nipple. 

Apparently encouraged by the keen sound, Dean smirked against his skin and took his nipple between his teeth. He hummed in an almost teasing way around the hard bud, rubbing the tip of his tongue against the center of the nipple trapped between his teeth, sucking and nibbling on it until he had Sam mewling under him, incomprehensible sounds leaving him as he tried to protest, but instead ended up arching his entire body like a taut bow, as if every part of his being wanted to get closer to Dean. Humiliating wasn’t a word even relatively close to describing his situation anymore, Sam blushing madly as precome beaded at his slit and trickled down his pulsing, twitching cock in the demon’s hand. He never knew his nipple was this sensitive. While he has experimented with his ass, Sam has never played with his nipples before, so the intense sensation as Dean touched and licked him there was too new and overwhelming for him. It was like there was a direct connection from his nipples to his cock, each bite and tug—as his brother slid his free hand up to his other nipple and pinched, rolled it between his fingers, tugging and squeezing—feeling as if Dean was doing them to his cock, overstimulating him to the point Sam couldn’t keep his mouth closed for more than a few seconds, stifling his pitiful moans proving to be impossible. 

“I’m barely even doing anything to you, but look at you, Sammy,” the demon drawled with a low rumble in his voice and a nasty smirk on his face, running the flat of his tongue along a wet nipple and scoffing at his little brother’s resulting whimper. “If only this can make you into a blabbering mess, I wonder what the real deal could do to you…” He grinned. “Because you might be a sensitive, adorable little boy, but I bet that deep down there’s a freak.” Dean purred, his grin widening into something dangerous, something that had Sam holding his breath. “A real freak, in every sense of the term, who’s into some of the nastiest crap, like…drinking demon blood, for example.” He rolled his eyes at the face Sam made. “Don’t worry, that was just an example. You won’t be drinking any blood,” Dean assured with a lick of his lips. “…Yet.” 

Sam had no idea what was going on, but he gave up on comprehending the demon or the unbelievable situation he was in the moment they ended up in bed. Trying to make sense of it all was like figuring out which came first, the chicken or the egg—useless and time consuming. 

“Do you ever sh-shut up?” he breathed, chest heaving as he watched Dean lean closer, so close he could feel the other’s warm breath on his lips. “Or do you not have a mute button?” 

The demon snorted lightly. “Funny,” he purred, giving Sam’s cock a squeeze. “Maybe I should shut **_you_** up? How’s that sound?” 

“No thanks,” Sam hissed, squirming a little in discomfort, his poor arms and legs suffering in this position, the pain and odd tingles in his almost-numb limbs only tamping down when he was distracted, by Dean’s tongue for example; or his teeth on his neck, like now. “Ah—What are you doing?” he gasped as the other bit him, but not like before. Dean bit him hard, teeth clamping down on his flesh like a bear trap, painful and as if it was intent on breaking the skin. 

A crooked grin was all the answer he got, along with a mischievous glint in Dean’s eyes, before the demon grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanked his head back, and bit him again. And again. And again, again, on his shoulder and neck, and never gently—in fact it felt like his brother was only biting harder and harder. At one point he was pretty sure the other managed to break the skin, if the wet warmth slowly rolling down the back of his shoulder and onto the sheets was anything to go by. Strangest of all, though, was that the pain wasn’t unwelcome. Each time Dean bit him, an unfair and intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure shot through him, drawing startled little gasps and whimpers from him, and the way the demon has begun pumping his cock wasn’t helping either. The bites coupled with Dean’s hand working his cock were too much, and even though he tried holding it in, even though he didn’t want to come from his brother leaving deep and painful, sometimes bloody bite marks on his body, when Dean sank his teeth inches away from his nipple, while pressing a fingers down his slit, Sam couldn’t take it anymore and threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and opening his mouth in a long, wanton cry as one of the most intense orgasms shook his body. He came all over the other’s fingers, some come landing on his stomach as well as he jerked his hips uncontrollably, Sam trembling for a few moments with the aftershocks of his orgasm before settling into a warm haze, letting out a shaky sigh as his body turned into a soft, limp pile of limbs. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” He didn’t open his eyes, feeling too drowsy and, honestly, just hoping he could fall asleep and wake up to this being a dream; but while he couldn’t see Dean, he could most certainly hear the smirk in his voice as the demon licked a wet stripe up his neck and whispered in his ear. “Coming with such a sweet, pathetic little sound, from me biting you. Kinky.” 

“That’s,” Sam sighed, blinking his eyes open with a little shudder, “not why I…” 

“Sure,” Dean sneered, pulling back to sit on his heels and look down at Sam’s exposed, sweat and come-covered body with lecherous derision. “And you can lie to yourself as much as you’d like, but I know the real you. I know how filthy,” he purred with a hint of a snarl on his lips, while lapping up the come from his fingers and making Sam feel pretty mortified, “you really are.” 

He shook his head. “No,” Sam stated, licking his lips and prayed, oh god please, for his cock not to get hard from what Dean was doing. “You’re just a demon. And I w-won’t let you win by letting you get to me. Demons lie all the time.” 

“Except for when the truth hurts more,” the other added, cocking his head and gathering the cooling come on his little brother’s abdomen, before leaning forward and smearing it across his cheek and lips. “And we both know you’re ashamed of your true self. Your true, sick, incestuous and perverse, disgusting self… Can you taste it?” Dean grabbed his jaw, a somewhat maniacal glow in his suddenly pitch black eyes as he growled, “Can you taste the filth in your come, _whore_? C’mon, lick it off. You know you want to.” 

Sam blinked with wide, befuddled eyes at the demon, his heart hammering in his chest as he looked into those deep and dark eyes. It was like looking down a well after fearing that you’d fall in, or get sucked in by the endless black at the bottom. Except he was already feeling like he’s been engulfed by the darkness that wasn’t only Dean’s eyes, but also heart and entire being, the demon the embodiment of pure black evil, and…at this point, Sam was so confused and enchanted, he couldn’t tell whether he was shivering from horror or arousal anymore. He gulped, lips parting as he drew in an uneven breath, before poking his tongue out and running it over his mouth, licking off his own come. Cold and salty, slightly tacky, with a somewhat bitter aftertaste. Nothing special, but still feeling so weird and wrong swallowing his own come. His own…filthy come. God, he couldn’t believe even this dirty talk was turning him on. No, this wasn’t even dirty talk. Dean was degrading him, and Sam…liked it. 

He really was sick. 

“Like it? Like the taste of your come, freak?” Dean spat, and Sam’s cheeks flushed a bright red color as he let out a helpless little whimper. “Oh yeah, you do. Bet you’d lick it up from the floor if you had to, would do anything if it meant swallowing someone’s come. Fucking come-slut,” the demon snarled, tightening his hold on the other’s jaw and giving him a little shake, before pulling back and looking down at him as if he were nothing more than some disappointment. “What should I use you for next, hmm? Maybe drag you off the bed and grab some beer, while sitting on you and using you as a chair. Or a stool to rest my legs on.” He chuckled darkly. “Bet you’re so fucked up in the head you’d get off by being objectified, used as a simple object, wouldn’t you?” 

“F-For fuck’s sake, Dean, shut up already.” Sam bit his bottom lip, turning his head to the side and averting his eyes, not knowing how to react to any of that. His body, on the other hand, apparently knew exactly how to react, sending an excited chill down his spine and making Sam hate himself even more. And question his morals, because seriously, what the hell was wrong with him? He’s been normal—or at least as normal as a boy with a monster hunter for a single father could be—his entire life, had a healthy sexual appetite, and while he was in fact in love with his older brother, he has never acted on his feelings. His sex life was, along with his academic life, one of the only things he was rather proud of, glad it was ordinary and vanilla… And then this goddamn demon comes along and ruins everything, making Sam feel like a crazy sex freak who was into all kinds of disturbing things. Oh how he wished this day never happened. 

“Yeah, the truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Dean drawled with a lopsided smile, splaying his fingers on the boy’s stomach and stroking his hand up and down the soft, warm skin. “And that’s not all, is it? You’re not just kinky, you’re also a hypocrite.” He trailed his fingers past the other’s belly button, tip of his finger ghosting over the base of Sam’s cock, which was, to his demise, slowly hardening again. “How feisty you were when you first saw me… Even tried to shoot me. Run from me. Hit me.” 

“I did hit you. And shot you,” he pointed out, unable to help himself, then immediately regretted his decision when he saw the look Dean gave him. 

“You did,” the demon hissed, pressing his thumbs into the boy’s groin until it hurt. And this time it wasn’t the good kind of hurt, either. “You hated me so much… Which was understandable. I’m a demon. An evil, black-eyed monster, and also your brother. Seeing me must have made you so sad, so angry. And yet.” He raised his chin so he’d look even more condescending as he gazed down at Sam. “And yet you still get hard from my touch. _T_ _hat_ is how much of a worthless, pathetic aberration you are, Sammy,” Dean whispered with a husky sneer. “You don’t care even if I’m a monster. You don’t care, because you’re just scum.” He slid his fingernail up Sam’s cock, the light and ticklish touch making the other gasp and buck his hips shamefully. “A needy little bitch that likes to put up a fight, just to convince himself he’s normal, but in reality he’d bend over to the first guy who’d fuck him. Even if that person’s a vampire, a ghoul, werewolf or any monster…a demon, your own big brother, or both.” He laughed at the humiliated tears that gathered in Sam’s eyes, Dean’s words making him feel terrible, the worst being he didn’t even have it in himself to argue anymore, because… Deep down, it felt like the demon was right. 

“Dean,” he pleaded wetly, “please. Stop.” 

“Stop?” His brother scoffed. “Why? Because you don’t want to hear me read you like a book? Or maybe you’re scared that you’re gonna get turned on again? Because, newsflash sweetie,” the demon hissed, and flicked the head of Sam’s cock, roughly, drawing a sharp cry from the other. “You’re a little too late to worry about that. Your pretty cock’s a total bitch to my words, my hands… Your entire body’s so responsive when I’m around, my eyes on you alone making you hard, horny, depraved like the little bitch in heat that you are.” 

Sam let out a weak, exasperated sound. “I am _not_ depraved—” he insisted, but as Dean flicked his fully hard cock again, he let out a sudden, obscene whimper, followed by an embarrassed sob as he turned his head away and tried to hide behind his bangs, because oh god, that jerk was right… No matter what Dean said or did to him, it was incredibly hot, and Sam wanted to cry he was so ashamed of himself. 

Instead of crying—although some tears did manage to escape his eyes and roll down his cheeks—he gulped, biting down on his lips as Dean squeezed the head of his cock between his thumb and index finger, coaxing some precome from his slit. “Sure you’re not. You’re not needy for cock at all. My cock, my hands all over your sensitive body, my fingers in your greedy ass. _Sure_.” He sniggered, a scornful smirk plastered across his face as he bent and squeezed the cock in his hand, as if inspecting it, before making a displeased sound and tossing it against Sam’s stomach. “Not a shred of innocence left in you, is there?” Dean growled, then began crawling on top of him, Sam’s heart beating out of his chest as he watched with growing apprehension as the demon crept closer, like a silent but deadly predator. 

“What are you doing?” he asked hesitantly, not sure whether he wanted to know the answer, especially when Dean sat down on his chest, his thighs bracketing Sam’s head, making him realize he probably needn’t an answer to figure out exactly what the other was planning on doing. And it most definitely didn’t fill him with happy thoughts, because getting touched by his brother was one thing, but taking him into his mouth… Call him a prude hypocrite, but Sam didn’t feel ready at all. 

“What I’m doing is feeding you the only meat worth putting in that nasty whore mouth of yours,” Dean growled as he unzipped himself, Sam’s breath hitching and catching in his throat when he saw the demon pull out his cock and tuck his boxers under his balls, his _big_ brother’s long shaft mere inches from his face. He could feel it radiate warmth, the earthy, musky smell making him swallow with wide, disbelieving eyes. Dean has…definitely grown since the last time he caught a glance of his nether regions when he came out of the bathroom, and that was when his brother was like seventeen. This here, this thick, hard cock belonged to an adult… A _man_. A demon. 

He emitted a tiny sound as the other guided the tip of his cock to his lips. “W-Wait,” Sam gasped, barely even daring to breathe with the demon’s big, mouthwatering cock right in front of his face. And then felt sick with himself for thinking of his brother’s cock as mouthwatering, what the hell. 

“For what? For you to come from just looking at my junk?” Dean let out a derisive laugh, reaching back to give Sam’s cock a few tugs. “So turned on… How much do you wanna bet I could make you come by fucking your throat?” 

“Stop being an ass already,” he whined, chewing on his lower lip and averting his eyes, which he then squeezed shut as Dean had the audacity to start rubbing the head of his cock against Sam’s cheekbone. He smeared precome over the skin, cock slip-sliding along his cheek before the demon pressed the tip against the corner of his mouth. 

“Open, slut,” his brother ordered with a low growl in his already deep voice, making it sound like a low purr of a lion. He gripped Sam’s hair and pulled on it impatiently, rubbing his cock against the boy’s mouth. “Open your goddamn mouth and swallow my cock, or I swear I will knock your teeth out and shove it in there myself.” 

Quivering, Sam reluctantly opened his slightly teary eyes, then immediately regretted doing so as he saw the lustful, starving look in his brother’s dark emerald ones. He dared not speak, even slowing his breathing in fear of setting Dean off. The warm, slick cock was pressed so close that all it would take was slightly part his lips for it to slip inside, but Sam wasn’t sure he wanted something like that in his mouth. Not that he’s never fantasized about it, because he did, but damn it… This just wasn’t the same. Still, as the seconds trickled by and the demon’s gaze darkened, hold tightening on Sam’s hair until it felt like the other was about to seriously rip some strands out of his scalp, he accepted the glaring fact he wasn’t getting out of this situation, no matter how many times he fooled himself into believing he had a chance, a shot at escaping. Because he didn’t. 

Not from an unstoppable, older, demonic version of his big brother. 

Sam emitted a tiny, defeated sound as he finally opened his mouth, craning his neck and leaning forward to take as much of the demon’s dick in his mouth as he could without gagging, which, unsurprisingly, wasn’t much. 

And Dean didn’t seem too pleased about it, either. “How pathetic,” he spat, moving the hand he kept on the boy’s jaw to his head, now both hands gripping fistfuls of hair. “That’s all you can take? That’s barely five inches, kid, you still have a few more to go. And don’t you fucking think I’ll make an exception for your little virgin mouth.” He tugged on Sam’s hair, pushing further in and making the boy jerk and gag, Sam tearing up as his throat was forcefully stretched around the thick cock in his mouth. “Fuckin’ worthless as a cock sucker, even though that’s all you’re good for. Mmm? A pathetic cock sucking whore is what you are, isn’t that right?” Dean growled, sliding closer and almost cutting off the other’s air supply, Sam’s eyes widening, his vision blurry from tears as he choked, nostrils flaring as he took in deep, uneven breaths. Shit, Dean was almost sitting on his goddamn throat and strangling him with his friggin’ ass. 

He dug his nails into his palms, trying to keep himself from passing out or throwing up, but thankfully he didn’t have to worry for long about either of those as Dean pulled out, before giving Sam’s cheek some punishing slaps with wet cock. “You’re going to take my dick, one way or another. You understand me, Sammy?” his brother hissed, the voice coming from him so deep and filled with sadistic threats, dripping with such malicious intent there was no doubt it truly belonged to a demon. “This cock is all you have. It’s the only thing you should care about. It’s the only reason you’re _still alive_.” 

Sam gulped, still tasting his big brother in his mouth, and after a moment of abashed, mortified hesitation, he opened his mouth without being told so. That apparently earned him some good points, as Dean let out a pleased, devilish chuckle, before slipping his dick back into the boy’s mouth. Then moved his hands to the headboard and just sat there with the head of his cock between Sam’s lips, raising an expectant eyebrow at him when he blinked up at the other. 

“Do you expect me to do all the work, cocksucker?” He sneered. “C’mon. Show big brother who’s a good little bitch, and put that pretty mouth of yours to use.” 

Sam made a muffled, grumbly sound, a small snarl twisting his lips. The moment he’d get out of his binds, he will drown this jackass in holy water. “Shcrew yhou,” he lisped around the warm a spongy head of the demon’s cock, so very tempted to bite down, but instead of doing something stupid and possibly suicidal, he settled for closing his lips around the flesh in his mouth and sucking on it. If the purr-like sound coming from Dean was any indication, he was probably doing well, so he continued, swiping his tongue in broad circles around the tip, before rubbing and pressing it against the demon’s slit, earning an unfairly sexy groan from the other. He still wasn’t enjoying this—at least not on a conscious level—but Sam had to admit, being the reason for his brother’s pleasure, for his groans was kind of…well, interesting. And not as disturbing as he thought it’d be. 

He took a deep breath, humming around the head, and then proceeded to take more of the demon’s cock. He took it slow, inch by inch, until he was halfway there. He swallowed, stifling a slight smirk at Dean’s moan, and began bobbing his head, while hollowing his cheeks and sucking as hard as he could, rewarded by yet another, more drawn-out groan from the other. Relaxing his throat muscle as much as he possibly could, Sam pushed his limits and gradually took more and more of the other down his throat, gagging now and then, but at least he wasn’t choking to death on Dean’s cock like last time, which was already an improvement. He let his eyelids slip shut as he focused on sucking his demon brother off, finding it difficult to get used to the feeling of something huge being in his mouth and sliding down his throat, forcing it to adapt to the cock’s girth. Sam needed to concentrate not to gag, took it nice and slow, sucked and swallowed often enough to keep Dean satisfied even though he still couldn’t go down on all of the other’s cock. He probably managed to somehow make up for it with the way he let his teeth graze against the hot, sensitive skin; lapped at Dean’s slit and curled his tongue along the underside; made small sounds, moans and hums to cause vibrations around the other’s hard and twitching cock; or kept his brother’s cock trapped in the tight, wet suction of his mouth, bobbing his head faster while making some rather obscene sucking sounds that even made _him_ think he kind of sounded like…a whore. 

“God, you’re takin’ it so good,” Dean groaned, rolling his hips and almost making Sam gag again. All that effort for nothing. “I was right. You really _are_ a slut for my cock.” He chuckled, licking his lips and patting the boy’s head as if he was some puppy, before slowly pulling out of his mouth and crawling back between his legs. “But now that I’ve let you slick up my cock like a good boy, I think you’re ready to get a taste of the main course.” 

Clenching his jaw, Sam tensed, trying to prepare for the inevitable intrusion of Dean’s cock in his ass. He knew it was coming the moment he got dragged onto the bed and had his clothes ripped off, but now that it was time, he was getting nervous and maybe a little scared, his heart beating so fast in his chest he could practically hear each frantic beat. But instead of Dean forcing his way into Sam, his brother surprised him by grabbing his biceps and roughly rolling him onto his stomach, before using something sharp—probably the previously discarded knife—to sever the bonds, the cold, sharp tip of the blade drawing a hiss from the boy as it grazed against, and probably left small cuts on, his wrists and ankles. A nice little touch to the bruises that were already forming there. 

“What…are you doing?” Sam couldn’t help but ask as he shifted onto his back, or at least would have, but only managed to roll on his side before strong, callous hands were on him, swiftly pushing him back down. 

He gasped, the breath stuck in his throat as Dean crawled on top of him, his intimidating weight pressing against Sam’s back letting him know there was no escape, not even with his binds gone. “As much fun as it would be to fuck your tied up, vulnerable body, I want your screams to come from the way I’m pounding your sweet ass raw, and not from the pain in your arms and legs,” he told Sam between kisses pressed against the back of his neck, each one sickeningly soft and deceptive. 

“And you really think I won’t fight back,” Sam breathed, attempting to sound mocking even as he clutched the pillow and arched into the unfair, butterfly-light kisses, “now that my hands are free?” 

“Yep,” Dean stated confidently, and he was so tempted to elbow that narcissistic demon in the face and hopefully break his nose, but was too distracted by the warm and heavy, rock-hard cock sliding against his ass, and the teasing fingers drumming along his arms to do anything but let out a soft whine in response. “You won’t resist me anymore, Sammy. Not now that we’ve come this far, not ever,” his brother purred into his ear, hands wrapping around his forearms and knees forcing him to pull up and spread his legs, so Dean had more room to hump against him. Sam knew he was going to be so ashamed and hate himself for acting so compliant. Later. 

“Well, I d-doubt that,” he huffed, for the sake of not seeming like he was ready to give in, and buried his face in the pillow. “You’re forcing yourself on me, Dean. It’s not like I _can_ say no anymore, whether I’d want to or not.” 

“True.” He felt the other shrug. “But you don’t want to, so I rest my case,” Dean said, patting the boy’s back, before trailing a hand down his spine, the slow touch making goosebumps race all over his skin. “And now you’re going to let me screw your virgin ass, and I swear if you dare come without permission…” He raked his nails the rest of the way down Sam’s back. “ _I won’t hesitate hurting you in ways you’ll never forget_.” 

Sam gulped, an anxious yet thrilled shiver rippling through his body. “I have to ask for permission?” He balked at the order, not sure what to make of it or if he should follow it, but he didn’t think Dean was joking. He might have been his brother, but he was also a demon… And that meant there was a high chance he would seriously hurt, might even come close to killing Sam. “Fine. But I’m so kicking your ass once this is over…” he muttered, not proud of himself, but not exactly feeling much curiosity in finding out whether Dean was serious about his threat or not. 

“Attaboy.” The demon patted his butt. “Now relax,” he drawled lowly, fondling and kneading Sam’s ass, thumbing at his hole before slipping two fingers inside, thrusting a few time, then pulling out, “this might sting a bit.” 

Taking a deep breath, Sam grit his teeth and braced himself, taking the other’s advice and trying to relax as he felt the lube-slick head of his brother’s cock pressing and prodding against his loosened rim. He gripped the pillow tighter, blushing as he spread his legs a little more; and then his mouth opened in a silent cry, voice stuck in his throat as his eyes widened, the way the head of Dean’s cock pushed past the still somewhat tight rim, the way it forced Sam’s body to open and stretch, to accommodate and adjust to his thick cock leaving the boy speechless. But only for a moment, as the second more of the demon’s cock slipped inside him, it was as if it also pushed the sounds that were stuck in him, Sam emitting a startled moan, along with little gasps and a drawn-out whine. By the time Dean bottomed out, he was trembling, muscles tense as he stayed frozen in the position he was in, his ragged breaths sometimes coming out as whimpers. 

"How's that, Sammy?" Dean groaned, moving his hands to the boy's hips and rolling his own, earning a high-pitched sound from Sam. "Just as good as you imagined it? 'Cause, fuck, your ass feels so much better than in my fantasies." His brother sucked in a breath through his teeth, stroking his ass before spreading his cheeks and making an animalistic sound Sam could only identify as some kind of lustful growl. "Shit, your ass is swallowing up my cock so fuckin' good... You'd wonder if your mouth ever gets jealous," Dean said with a throaty chuckle, then landed a loud smack on one of his cheeks, making Sam yelp and withdraw in pain. Or at least try to, since he was kinda trapped in the position he was in, pretty much impaled on the demon's cock. 

"O-Oh drop dead already," he gasped, voice strained, and evened out his breathing; but all his efforts became useless the moment Dean began thrusting. " _Oh my god_." He arched violently, a squeak leaving him as the other pulled out, then slammed right back in. Not bothering to ease Sam into it, his brother set a punishing pace from the start, only taking it slow for the first few pushes before practically going from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds. The abruptly and shockingly rough thrusts knocked the air out of him, Sam needing to plant his hand against the headboard in order not to keep bashing his head against it, as the demon was fucking him so hard that he was even rocking his body with each harsh, swift thrust. 

“Like that, you filthy whore?” Dean growled, his fingers digging into the boy’s skin as he kept pounding Sam’s ass. “Bet you do. Bet you love it and want more. Greedy boy,” he drawled and reached out a hand to grasp at the other’s hair. He grabbed a handful and yanked his little brother’s head back, then used his newfound grip on the boy to tug him into each thrust, the pain in his scalp and ass driving Sam crazy. 

“Dean, god, _Dean_!” he whined, the position the demon has forced him into—head tipped back and back bent backwards in a sensual C—making it literally impossible for him to keep his moans in. He screamed from the way the other kept ramming into his ass, big cock dragging against his skin, stretching and ruining his hole, Sam feeling it in his stomach, in the entirety of his being. He cried from the pain in his scalp and ass, and the shameful pleasure he derived from them, from the insults and the rough treatment; he  mewled loudly as the head of Dean’s cock pressed against his prostate, the demon angling his hips and nailing it with each and every thrust, as if turning the boy a delirious, crying and unintelligible mess was his only goal in life; and he whimpered wantonly, keening as he rubbed his own hard cock against the mattress, holding his orgasm back proving to be an awfully difficult task when this brother was fucking him so mercilessly and making him feel as if his entire body has been engulfed in sparking flames, ripping him apart and burning him from the inside out. 

Suddenly, the hand from his hair was gone, and Sam almost headbutted his pillow, but was stopped by the same hand now clasped firmly on his mouth. “Loud little bitch, aren’t you?” his brother sneered close to his ear, before tugging him up onto his knees, his back pressed against the demon’s chest, and his hands immediately trying to hold onto something. Grabbing Dean’s wrist with one hand, and his shoulder with the other, Sam held on for dear life as the demon resumed thrusting. “Take that fat cock deep inside,” Dean growled, nipping at his neck. “You love to feel it deep, don’t you?” A muffled moan being his sole response, Sam trembled against the demon, then let out a pitiful, weak sound as his jerk of a brother wrapped his free hand around his cock. “What a pretty cock you have. And now it’s all mine,” he purred in the boy’s ear, chuckling, before picking up his pace and fucking him silly. 

His eyes rolling back in his head, Sam was almost certain that, at this rate, he was going to pass out. He never wanted to become a toy, owned and used by a demon. He has never imagined tonight would turn out like this, but because it was Dean…because it felt so incredibly good and wrong, a part of him was loving every second of being claimed. Sam couldn’t stay still, rolling and jerking his hips, back onto the other’s cock and forward into his fist. Each thrust sent him forward, and he would have fallen on the bed if he weren’t holding on, his nails sinking into Dean’s shoulder and grip tightening on his wrist as electric waves of intense pleasure shot through him, making him writhe and mewl with every thrust. Head falling back on the demon’s shoulder, with sweaty strands of hair stuck to his forehead, Sam closed his eyes and let his mind go blank, not thinking about how he let out one lustful mewl after the other as Dean stroked his cock and fucked him good and hard, cock shoved so far up his ass he could feel every single inch. Feel it rub against his prostate, feel it pounding his ass like it deserved punishment, feel it sliding in and out of him with long, swift and brutal thrusts. And it seemed like he wasn’t the only one affected, as Dean kept groaning near his ear, the primal growls and other carnal, low and deep, scorching hot sounds going straight to Sam’s cock, both of them nearing their limits. But he had to remind himself, between the other’s hand on his cock that felt like liquid fire, and the pleasure-filled haze in his head, that he couldn’t come. Not until he had Dean’s permission to do so. 

And while it was definitely something he hoped he could avoid somehow, now with his release nearing alarmingly fast, Sam had to make a decision. And so he began licking at the demon’s palm, whimpering and shaking his head as he tried to make the other move his hand. Probably noticing what he wanted, but being a jackass as always, Dean did move his hand—except he merely curled his fingers, before shoving them into the boy’s mouth, almost making him deepthroat the digits. 

“That’s it, suck on them,” Dean purred, panting, his thrusts gradually turning erratic. “Suck on my fingers like they’re my cock, Sammy. Keep that mouth of yours stuffed.” 

He moaned in annoyance, not in the mood to get even more kinky with Dean, even though he couldn’t deny that swirling his tongue around, and sucking on his big brother’s fingers was hot. But that was the problem. He was aroused, so close to coming he could almost taste it. Or maybe that was just the dried come on the other’s fingers. Either way, he was going to come soon, and he feared what would happen to him if he accidentally came without the demon’s say so. Without permission… Would Dean really kill him? Hurt him? Sam wasn’t ready to take that risk, plus he has already been humiliated countless times during this past hour.

What could some begging do to his already ruined image and dignity? 

“Phleashe,” he moaned, clawing at the other’s shoulder and chewing on his fingers. “Ph-Phlease Deaa…” 

The demon shoved his fingers deeper down the boy’s throat as a response, drawing a panicky little whimper from him, before chuckling and pulling them out. “What is it? Is the sweet little Stanford boy gonna beg his big brother to let him come? Hmm?” Dean teased, wiping his fingers on Sam’s chest and tugging on a nipple while his hand was there, that being the last straw that finally made him snap. 

“Yes, yes, ohmygod Dean, Dean I n-need to come, please let me come let m-me come, oh _please_ Dean! I’m begging you please, pleasepleaseplease—” Sam pleaded miserably, desperation dripping from his needy, sugary voice as he gasped and cried. “Please let me, I…please I need… I need…!” 

“G’boi,” the demon praised huskily, licking a quick, wet stripe up Sam’s neck before thumbing his slit, and then began stroking his cock much faster and harder, milking it with swift, squeezing pumps. “Now shut the fuck up and come, slut.” 

And he did, on command. It was incredibly embarrassing, but he couldn’t help it. The moment the other picked up the pace, Sam’s mouth hung open as he keened fervidly, sobbing between moans, because it was too much, he was falling apart, he couldn’t take it… And then Dean said the words, the order he’s been waiting for, the consent, causing Sam to unravel with a loud mewl. His orgasm was so violent and overwhelmingly amazing that, after he came all over his abdomen, Dean’s hand, and the bed, Sam was pretty sure he passed out for a few seconds, because when he came to, the demon was hissing and growling, and moments later, coming deep inside him. 

Under the afterglow’s spell, Sam collapsed on the bed, his body feeling like a couple of wet noodles, soft and squishy and limp. He drifted, catching his breath and barely registering the demon lying down next to him with a satisfied sound. In the end, he must have fallen asleep for a few minutes, and when he woke up, he was somehow in Dean’s arms, his brother lying on his back with an arm around him, and Sam wrapping his limbs around the other like an overly-attached octopus. 

Noticing what he was doing, he quickly drew back and rolled onto his back, trying to get away, but failing as Dean pulled him back. “What’s the rush, sweetie?” He grinned, flashing white teeth. “I thought you’d be into cuddling after sex.” 

“Yeah, but this isn’t…” Sam shook his head. “You know this isn’t the same. Now let me go,” he demanded, pushing at the demon, only to get his wrist suddenly pinned on either side of his head as Dean, fast as lightning, crawled on him and held him down. 

“Or what?” he taunted, eyes gleaming with smug mischief as he leaned slightly closer. “You gonna scream? Too late. Gonna fight me? After how good you took my cock, I doubt it.” 

“Or nothing,” Sam stated, rolling his eyes. “I was just hoping you’d be a decent…demon for once and let me have some space. I mean this shit isn’t something I can cope with and accept in just an hour.” 

Dean watched him for a long, silent moment, before grunting and actually letting go of him. “Fine,” he said, flopping back down on the bed and crossing his arms behind his head. “But don’t think too loud. And you better make it quick, because I don’t plan on staying here longer than necessary.” 

“What?” Sam turned onto his side, propping himself on an elbow and raising his eyebrows. “You’re not staying?” 

“Why would I stay?” Dean mirrored the other’s expression. “I only came here to fuck with you. And to fuck you,” he said nonchalantly, before a lazy smirk spread across his lips. “Why? Don’t tell me you gonna miss me.” 

Sam scoffed. “You wish, asshole.” He glared at the demon. “But you did fuck with me. You screwed up my life. You…killed my girlfriend. Then did this…” he muttered, hissing as he sat against the headboard with a sigh. “How am I supposed to look at you, the present you, in the eye now?” Then something occurred to him and he turned his head towards Dean. “Why did you do this?” 

The demon gave him an unimpressed look. “Why? What a stupid question. You’ve got a brain, why don’t you use it?” 

“Dean.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Dean groaned, sitting up as well and raising a knee to rest his elbow against it. “But I’m pretty sure I already told you that I came here to fuck you.” 

Sam nodded. “You did. But why?” he asked with genuine curiosity. “To humiliate me? To toy with me? To… I don’t know, take revenge on something future me did?” 

Dean looked at him with a frown and thoughtful eyes, not saying a word for a few moments, before the corner of his lips curled into a knowing, mischievous smirk. “How about you ask young me that question instead? And if he doesn’t wanna answer, just tell him how you feel,” he said, chuckling at the panicked look on Sam’s face, before adding, “Don’t worry. Just tell him.” 

He seriously doubted something like that would ever work, but he nodded nonetheless. Though didn’t plan on doing so, ever. “Fine… But,” he said, as he remembered something, “you won’t hurt him, will you?” 

Now it was Dean’s turn to sound curious. “No. Why would I? There’s only one way I like beating myself, and that involves some alone time and lube,” he purred with a lewd little smile, making the other roll his eyes. 

“I meant the letter. I suppose it was you who left it here a few days ago,” Sam remarked, pulling the blanket over his naked, sweaty body as a chill passed through him. 

Dean snorted. “That letter…” He grinned, and Sam wondered if now that they have fucked, it would be acceptable for him to punch the demon in his stupid grinning face. “Did you think it described your…me?” he asked, shaking his head and shrugging. “I guess there were a few similarities, but nope. That letter was actually a kind of a…warning. For you. _A_ _bout_ you.” 

“But that makes no sense,” Sam pointed out, trying to recall what was in the letter. “I’m no ‘hero’. Or a soldier.” 

“Maybe…but try reading between the lines.” Dean flashed him a crooked smile. “It took me a lot of time and effort to come up with that letter, you know. To make it all fancy and eerie like that. So I made sure that everything in there would mean something. Based it on real life events and crap. Whether it has already happened…” His eyes darkened. “Or will happen in the future.” 

Those words sent a spine-chilling shiver through Sam, their meaning squeezing his heart. “So…you’re saying,” he whispered, “that no matter what I do, I won’t be able to have a normal life? That coming here meant nothing?” 

Dean nodded, something wicked and satisfied flashing in his eyes as he said, “You could never run from your life, Sammy. Even if I wouldn’t have visited you, Jess would have died and you’d have joined me to hunt monsters again. And now, ten years later…you’re still a hunter.” He chuckled, tilting his head back and glancing at the ceiling as his voice became more distant, as if reminiscing. “Only this time you’re trying to hunt me down, instead of vamps or ghosts.” Looking back at Sam, he sneered. “In fact, you wanna catch me and cure me. _Cure me_. A demon! Can you believe yourself?” 

“Actually, I can,” he said with a slight glare, before just sliding down against the headboard with a sigh. No matter what he did, no matter where he ran…his past just kept catching up to him, didn’t it? His past and his future. 

“Well then.” Dean patted his arm, before climbing out of bed and tucking himself back in. “I gotta go and mess with you some more. Future you.” 

“And what am I supposed to do?” Sam found himself asking, though he wasn’t sure what he expected to hear from the demon, aside from something like _go_ _jerk off to the memory of us fucking_. 

But Dean surprised him by saying, “Call young me. Tell me Jess has been killed by a demon. Say something about how the demon mentioned Yellow Eyes before disappearing.” Sam’s eyebrows shot up at the name, causing the other to roll his eyes. “Yeah, he would have been the one killing your precious girlfriend. So if you tell me…him that, the timeline shouldn’t be too disturbed. Things should happen at around the same time, I still become a demon after a few years, you still get laid a couple of times, everyone’s happy.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Sam narrowed his eyes, holding his blanket close. “We…had sex. And you want me to tell the present you that I’m still in love with him? Wouldn’t that change some things?” 

Dean seemed to consider that for longer than necessary, before crossing his arms with a hum. “Good point. But knowing myself, I’d still want us to keep hunting,” he concluded, before his face split into a corrupt yet cheerful smile. “So no, I don’t think it’d make any drastic changes.” 

He doubted it, but not seeing any point in arguing with the demon, Sam just nodded. “Fine,” he sighed, then bit his bottom lip and gazed at Dean. “So I’ll…see you in ten years?” 

“In ten years,” his demon brother said, grinning, and walked to the door. Stopping in the doorway, Dean looked over his shoulder, and purred, “Be good, baby boy.” 

And then he was gone, leaving Sam naked and confused in bed… Sam, who made a mental note that, in ten years, he was seriously going to have to invest in some holy water.

 


End file.
